Wandless Healings
by Babmilion
Summary: Hermione is studying to become a Mediwitch, until Snape becomes her medical potions professor for a year! But this young, handsome Snape is not who Hermione remembers from potions class. Can she fall in love, knowing what fate has in store for him?
1. Intro

I do not own any rights to the books. Everything is JKRowling's.

Wandless Healings

Chapter 1: Introduction – Hermione POV

Hermione frowned, her frazzled hair falling around a sheet of parchment as she studied the list of available elective rotations for the sixth time. After graduating from Hogwarts, she had gone on to become a Mediwitch student, specializing in trauma and psychological assessment. She could do everything short of transfiguring a broom into a leg, but the Board of International Medicine deemed it necessary that she complete her fellowship before being certified for private practice. Of course, she didn't _have_ to get a license… but she also wouldn't be able to work in any major city without one. And at 23, Hermione was certain that in order to find the love of her life, she would have to be exposed to many, many people. Many people. Many more than the thousands she had already met.

Which meant, she had to work in a city. A big city. A city as big as… London, for example. So, she had to get certified. She had to finish her fellowship. For another two years of her life.

She sighed in frustration, let the parchment fall onto the bed and curled comfortably onto her side. She had just passed the Degree of Competence exam, and rotations didn't start for another week. After an intense two months of studying, she had been looking forward to a nice vacation and visiting Harry in the outskirts of Moscow, where he was spending the summer in a Quidditch training camp. But then, she got the letter informing her that the elective advisor had gotten blown up in a hostage rescue mission (she had chosen WERR, "Wartime Emergency Response and Rescue", as her third year rotation) and would not be accepting new students, leaving her to chose a new one from the dwindling list of options.

Again, she found herself staring at the list. She wanted something exciting. Something life-changing! Ever since her adventures with Harry and Ron had ended at the end of Hogwarts, she felt somehow bored and unmotivated by simple book learning. While it was still important to her to do well in classes, she no longer felt driven to do the best she could do—only enough to get her into the competitive specialties and schools she wanted. Much to her friends' amusement, she had picked up a hobby a few years back: solving mysteries. In fact, she had been employed part-time by a private investigations firm, until the "husbands cheating on their wives" drill became too disillusioning, and she resorted to reading mystery novels instead.

There was nothing exciting left on the list. That was what it came down to. She didn't want to spend a year in any of the electives left. It would be a year of her life, wasted! Hermione resisted the urge to whine and settled for scrunching her nose at the offending parchment, huffing at it childishly. _Well, it's not like there's a point in waiting on it another day._ She sat up on the bed, dangling her legs over the side. Reaching for her wand, she swished it towards the fireplace and waited for the familiar face of the on-call attending to show up in the flames.

The green-tinged head of a woman appeared within moments, smiling in recognition. "Hi, Hermione. What can I do for you tonight?"

"I need your opinion on this elective rotation," Hermione replied, waving the slightly crumpled parchment carelessly. "I don't know which one to choose anymore. Honestly, I don't even care at this point… Do you know anyone who'll be running these classes?"

"Oh, hey, yeah… we're really sorry about what happened. Very unfortunate, that…"

"It's fine. I mean, I'm sorry too. It was a big loss for the entire medical community." It was the same line Hermione had heard and repeated to the entire staff of the London Wizard Hospital, and didn't care to get into details about the situation yet again. She rushed on, "But listen, do you know anyone who's teaching this year?"

"Well, you know, we're not supposed to give out that information yet, the final staffing judgments haven't been decided yet…" Hermione made a face at the flames impatiently and waited. "… If I were you, I'd go for 'Wandless Healings'," the attending finally replied.

Hermione scanned the list again, and raised her eyebrows upon reading the short description. "Well, I guess I didn't like any of them anyways…" _But that was one I definitely did not want to pick_, she thought. _I am so done with potions…_ "How come?"

"Well, there's only one doctor who volunteered to teach it, so unless something drastically changes, then trust me – you would have made a safe choice." Merideth grinned.

"Oh?"

The green face gave an exaggerated wink.

Hermione smiled back. "Alright, well, I guess that's what I wanted to hear. Sign me up for that one then, would you?" Merideth nodded and looked away, and Hermione could hear a quill scratching her name into the sign-up sheet over the background sounds of the office door opening and patters of approaching shoes. _Good. That's all set and done._ "So, what's his name?" she pried as Merideth swung back around to face her.

The face looked around stealthily, and leaned closer into the flames. The sound of people approaching got louder. "I really shouldn't be telling you, but under the circumstances…" Merideth lowered her voice to a whisper. "His name is Dr. Snape," she said quickly before sitting back and assuming a business-like pose. "So, Hermione, is there anything else I can help you with?"

Hermione had blanched, her mouth hanging slightly open. She snapped it shut. "Oh. No. No, thanks. Thanks for your help," she finished feebly, barely remembering to say "Bye" before Merideth waved out the flames with her wand. Her mouth was open again, but instead of closing it she lay back against the headrest, feeling her heart thumping against her chest. _Different Snape. Different Snape,_ she chanted to herself. It didn't sound convincing.

Jolting out of bed, she again waved her wand at the flames. "Harry! _Harry!_" she yelled into them, until a sleepy, unkempt man appeared yawning in the blaze.

"Hermione, do you know what _time_ it is?" he asked.

"Listen, there's no one over, is there? Ok, good. I'm coming over right now. Put some clothes on."

Without waiting to hear his reply, she doused the fire and, grabbing her emergency traveling kit, teleported to Harry Potter's room in Moscow.


	2. A Talk with Harry Potter

Chapter 2: A Talk with Harry Potter

"I still can't believe you teleported here..." Harry said groggily after Hermione finished her hasty synopsis. He was sitting up in his bed, the blankets wrapped around his bare torso and his athletic legs stretched out under the covers. Hermione sat cross-legged next to him, her hands crushing the blankets on either side of her. The small hotel room was messily strewn with clothes and dimly lit by several candles which gave off a floral aroma. A wide mirror on the other side of the room reflected their conversation.

"Harry, that's not important!" It had, in fact, been important when she first mastered it during first year trauma first response, but now there were bigger things to worry about. "What do you _think_," she demanded again. "It can't be _Snape_ Snape, right? Snape didn't have a _son_… right?"

"What I think is you sound like you're sixteen," he replied impatiently. "Look, first off, Snape's dead. Second, he was never _hot_, and no, there is no way in hell he could in any universe have had a kid, and anyways—"

He was interrupted by a curious noise coming from Hermione. "I never knew you thought of men that way," she giggled. "I mean, it's hot if you do, don't get me wrong…" She grinned at him and wiggled an eyebrow, the joke a familiar one for both of them.

Harry groaned and threw his head back to the oaken headboard. "Hermione…" he growled, "No matter how much you want it to happen, I will not suddenly become gay. _I like girls_." He nodded meaningfully towards the rumpled sheets that Hermione was sitting on. "_Girls_," he repeated, and grinned as shock seeped into Hermione's expression.

A deep red blush covered her face. "Were you…? Just now…?" She stuttered, quickly letting go of the blankets and wiping her hands nervously on her baggy jeans. The action drew Harry's smirking attention down to her thighs, and with a start Hermione realized he was… naked. "Oh, gosh," she squeaked, and spun her head to face the opposite wall. Her bushy hair flew across her shoulders and into her face, tickling her nose and making her want to sneeze. She lifted her hands to tuck the stray curls behind her ears, then lowered them suddenly, remembering what fluids could be on them. She exhaled an awkward, breathy laugh and settled on delicately rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. Looking in the mirror she caught Harry staring at her with unveiled amusement. "I'm sorry, I didn't reali… I, I just…" she gulped. "Um, is there a bathroom?"

"Yeah," Harry said, pointing to the narrow door to the left of the mirror.

"Haha… funny, I don't imagine a fat person could get through that very easily, good thing you're not fat," Hermione rambled as she sidestepped her way around the bed, keeping her eyes averted from Harry's tight muscles. "No, if fact, you're very, I mean, well, you're very thin, and, um, I mean, no, not too thin, you know, you have nice muscles, and, well, not that it matters, I mean, yeah, I mean it does, I mean, it's really important because you play Quidditch, and you need to have a hot body—I mean, well-sculpted muscles, well, I mean, you're a Seeker, so, I guess that, I guess… Well, it's always a good thing to have muscles, if you're a guy, right?" Harry could barely make out the stuttered phrases, but was disappointed when Hermione yanked the door closed behind her, the sound of running water drowning out the rest of her mutterings. Harry was sure, though, that they were deprecatingly directed at herself.

In all other matters, Hermione was a know-it-all. It felt nice to catch her off guard every once in a while. Still chuckling, Harry relaxed against the headboard. Then, with an impish smile, he lowered the blankets so that they barely covered his hips and raised his hands behind his head, exposing all the muscles in his stomach and chest. He remembered from a drunk conversation they had had a while back (in which he had learned more than he wanted to about Hermione's lack of a sex life) that she preferred a man's chest to any other part of his body. Briefly he considered bending his knee upwards so that the blankets crumpled seductively around his thigh, but dismissed the idea. That was too pornographic. Too unnatural. To… silly. Instead, he crossed his ankle lazily across his calf, and waited for Hermione to come back in the room. By the sound of the water splashing in the sink, Harry determined she was washing her face in an effort to cool the blush in her cheeks. _I guess Quidditch practice paid off_, he thought with a small, satisfied smile.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Hermione was chastising herself. Harry was her _best_ best friend. And, granted, he was hot, but she wasn't the only person to think that! Every girl, every woman, every gay male in the country agreed with her! There was nothing shameful, or weird, in admitting it… right? It wasn't as though she wanted to sleep with him, she just appreciated his good looks. Hermione looked into the mirror, and looked down quickly. She didn't have "good looks." Not only had she filled out since she left Hogwarts, but her hair was unkempt, her skin was the gross tan color of a pale person left in the sun for too long, her eyebrows were unwaxed, she owned no flattering clothing… the list went on and on. She sighed a little. _Well, on the bright side, at least I'm not flustered anymore_, she thought. Put into perspective, there was no way Harry could like her; in fact, Hermione was sure that he saw her as androgynous… as did everyone else. Which is why she was still a virgin. But hey, at least she was a successful virgin! Smiling, she opened the door and stepped confidently back into the room.

And was faced with a body-full of Harry.

"Hey, where'd you run off to?" he asked, groaning and flexing his muscles in an exaggerated stretch.

"You do that on purpose, don't you?" she demanded with a rueful shake of the head.

Harry grinned at her. "You have your jibes, I have mine…" he said, repositioning himself into another model-like pose.

This time, she had had time to reason it through; she kept calm. "If you won't behave, I'm leaving now."

Harry laughed. "Okay, okay, I'll be good," he said, pulling the covers back to their original location and bringing his knees in towards his chest. Wrapping his arms around his legs, he looked at her expectantly.

"Wow, you want to keep my company so much, I'm flattered," Hermione joked as she moved back onto the bed, making sure that the top covers were in place before sitting down. "So, who was the lucky girl tonight?" she asked, the Snape conversation put on momentary hold.

"Ginny," Harry answered. "It's been Ginny for a while, now…"

"Oh, I didn't realize she came with you!"

"Well, she actually came to see Ron. But then, we went out to have dinner, and one thing led to another, and you know…" There was an embarrassed silence, as Harry realized, No. Hermione didn't know. "Well anyways, yeah. It was Ginny."

Hermione was only half-surprised by the shot of jealousy that ran through her. "She didn't have to leave!" she said quickly, trying to hide it.

"Oh, no, I know. She left a little while back, she had something to do…"

"Oh, okay." A few seconds went by before either one said anything. "So, I didn't know that you two were an item now."

"No, we're not," Harry denied hastily, but then paused. He wasn't serious about Ginny, but Ginny about him…? Before he could think of a way to backtrack, Hermione had gone on with the conversation.

"So, how is she? How's Ron?"

"Oh, er, they're all okay, I guess. I didn't really ask, but I'm sure she would have mentioned it, if something was up."

They chatted idly for a while, the conversation half-hearted. Hermione's thoughts had returned to Snape – Dr. Snape, she corrected herself – wishing not for the first time that the magical world would make use of the wonderful muggle invention called the internet. But, regardless of any name similarities, she had to make a good impression. She would be working with him for a full year, after all! Maybe on the first day she should wear a skirt, with a nice blouse… But that would be impractical in the potions lab… Maybe a black tank top with fitting jeans; she had seen that outfit in a commercial and thought it was cute… But she didn't own anything like that.

As the clock struck three, Hermione bid good night to Harry and teleported back to London. As long as she didn't show up in sweat pants, she concluded, everything would be fine.


End file.
